


Break Down, Build Up

by yuuago



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, Gen, Year 0 (Stand Still Stay Silent)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/pseuds/yuuago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world's gone, but as time turns, they hang on.</p><p>[ 5-drabble sequence in classic 100-word format. Snapshots of the lives of the prologue characters during Year 0 and beyond.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Down, Build Up

* * *

The snow fell. It didn't stop. Piled about the cabin, locking them in tight. When daylight came, Stig pulled his coat on and went out.

Ulrika followed.

They shovelled a path out in silence. He looked at his wife as she heaved the snow, her head ducked, her face tight-lipped and serious.

It had been weeks, one after another, red marks on the calendar. They were keeping track. How many more?

She lifted her head. Their eyes met. She knew what he was thinking. She reached for him then, and he pulled her close, their shovels clattering to the ground.

* * *

Standing out at night on the deck of the boat that had become their home, Aino looked to the moon and sang songs she wrote herself to chase away the darkness.

One night, her sister joined her. They stood together, silent, arms wrapped around themselves against the cold.

"Why do you do this?" Kaino asked, her breath fogging the air.

Aino hesitated. Thought. "It makes me feel better," she said.

"Okay." That was all, but it was enough.

Aino sang. Kaino listened, then joined her. Even if it meant nothing, they both felt better.

High above, the moon shone brighter.

* * *

"Easy there, birdie. Try again."

His grandmother's voice was kind, firm, crisp in the clear winter air. The rifle was heavy in his hands; Aksel wondered if he would ever get used to it. Biting his lip, he looked over at the target, a tin can balanced on a fence. Something cold landed on his cheek. Snow.

"You need to breathe," she said, reaching up, brushing snowflakes from his hair. "That's what it is. You always hold your breath. Try again."

Aksel swallowed. Breathed. Aimed, just as she'd taught him. Breathed.

Fired.

The can fell. He didn't feel any better.

* * *

They murmured good night. Kissed. Pinched out the candle.

Hours later Signe stared into the quiet dark, listening to her husband’s breathing. Outside, the wind screamed.

She slid her thumb over the smooth band of her wedding ring. It was old, a gift from his aunt. “Good luck to you,” the woman had said as she handed it over, and both of them knew very well that in this new world, they would need it.

They were safe on their island. Safe and alive. But as the wind cried out like thousands of voices, she reached for Michael's hand, anyway.

* * *

Morning.

Árni scraped the sleep from his eyes and stumbled to the door. Slipped his boots on, stopped, then muttered to himself as he put them on the correct feet. Coat. Where did he put it? Oh-

Cold air hit him as he went out to the fold, scent of frozen ground and the farm's damp earth. 

He could hear the sheep talking to each other. The sound chased away what was left of the dreams, remnants of _things_ hiding in the back of his mind.

Night would bring the fear again, but for now: he had work to do.

* * *


End file.
